


Dinner?

by EachPeachPearPlum



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Awkwardness, Captain America Steve Rogers/Modern Bucky Barnes, First Dates, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Not Captain America: The Winter Soldier Compliant, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, job hunting, mcuchristmasexchange2019
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-31
Updated: 2019-12-31
Packaged: 2021-02-19 05:53:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22039519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EachPeachPearPlum/pseuds/EachPeachPearPlum
Summary: “A friend told me you were looking for help here,” Steve says. “I was wondering if you were still hiring.”Or, that’s what he means to say, anyway.What actually comes out is, “Dinner?”“What?” James asks, staring up at Steve, his expression only slightly more surprised than Steve feels.“I was hoping to apply for the job, if you’ve not already found someone,” Steve says, only that, too, doesn’t come out as he expects it to.“Can I buy you dinner?”(Or: Steve has no game, but it doesn't matter since he's here looking for a job, not a date. Right?)
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 5
Kudos: 68
Collections: MCU Christmas Exchange





	Dinner?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Madeleine_Ward](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Madeleine_Ward/gifts).



> This is late, and I suck at titles and tags and who knows what else. I'm really sorry, Maddie, and please know that you definitely deserve better. There should theoretically be a smutty epilogue at some point in the future, to make up for my failure in delivering anything remotely festive, but I'm posting this as is because I'm not sure when it'll be.
> 
> Massive thank yous to Ruquas for running this fest, and for being the most patient and understanding mod I have ever encountered. You rock, and I look forward to participating again next year.
> 
> Much gratitude also to everyone who has handheld me through the last few months, both relating to this fic and to everything else. There's too many of you to list, but I hope you all know who you are, and that I would have been lost without your support.
> 
> This is set in a nebulous and ill-defined world in which the Winter Soldier was someone else, Hydra has been eradicated, and Steve has decided to pass on the shield, only to realise that he sucks at doing nothing and therefore wants a job.
> 
> Finally, a small content warning for the brief appearance of an unpleasantly ableist and sexist unnamed character. Don't worry, he gets handled appropriately.

  
“Look,” says the jerk leaning across the desk, “I don’t mean to be rude, but-“

Steve’s already wincing, because in his experience, anyone who begins a sentence with _I don’t mean to, but_ is about to very deliberately be exactly what they said they don’t mean to be. It’s a weird, 21st century turn of phrase, he thinks, because in his time ( _this_ is _your time_ , Sam would say gently, if he knew Steve was thinking like that, but since Sam hasn’t yet mastered the ability to read minds, Steve can continue to think whatever he wants) people were a lot more keen on just saying things and rarely bothered pretending they weren’t being horrendously offensive when they did so.

“-I didn’t come here to speak to some glorified office-boy cripple,” finishes the jerk. “Get me the man in charge, now!”

Steve is about to clear his throat and suggest that the jerk consider rephrasing his request, perhaps by replacing the insult with the word _please_ , explaining what the problem is and giving the man behind the desk a chance to try to solve it, or possibly just by getting the hell out of the office (okay, fine, he's going to do the latter, and he's more than happy to remove him by force, given half a chance). Before Steve can do any of this, though, the guy behind the desk gives an almost imperceptible shake of his head and picks up the phone on his desk.

“Sorry to bother you, boss,” he says, when the ringing Steve can faintly hear on the other end of the call stops. “There’s a man here wants to talk to you.”

There’s a sigh at the other end of the line, and then someone says, “I’m busy, Barnes. Can’t you handle it?”

The fact that he’s listening in on the call from across the room means the voice is faint, but it is also, to Steve’s surprise, a very familiar one. Yes, Steve isn’t used to hearing it with a gentle lilt any southern belle would be proud of, but that doesn’t change the fact that he recognises it, and it certainly explains a lot about why this place came out top of the list of businesses he should consider applying to after he passed on the shield.

Honestly, if Steve had wanted to accept handouts from his (now former-) teammates, he’d have accepted Tony’s offer to work security, or Sam’s to apply for the vacancy at the VA, or Clint’s to manage his apartment building (because, apparently, Clint owns a building that regular humans actually live in, and if that’s not a terrible idea Steve doesn’t know what is).

“He’s insisting on speaking to _the man in charge_ rather than the one-armed office boy,” Barnes answers, doing a very impressive job of suppressing the eye roll Steve imagines he’s trying not to let out.

“One of those, then,” Natasha Goddamn Romanov says down the phone, sounding worryingly thrilled about the prospect. “I’m on my way.”

Then again, Natasha has always delighted in putting assholes in their place, and apparently that’s a trait she and whatever cover identity this is have in common.

“Thanks, boss,” Barnes says, putting the phone down and looking up at the dickhead customer. “The owner will be through in just a minute,” he announces; Steve doesn’t know him, so he can’t say for certain, but he’s pretty sure the failure to mention the company owner is a woman is entirely deliberate.

Okay, fine, maybe Nat knew what she was doing when she suggested he work here. Barnes is exactly the kind of guy Steve wants to be working with.

A few moments later, he hears a door open and close somewhere else in the building, followed by footsteps drawing closer, and then they’re joined by Natasha. Her hair is dishwater blonde and, judging by the bangs that frame her face, ruler straight, not a trace of the fiercely red curls she had when Steve last saw her a couple of days ago, and the suit she’s wearing could have come from Pepper’s wardrobe, but for the fact that no borrowed outfit could ever fit as well as hers does.

Natasha looks at Steve, showing him the tiniest suggestion of a smug grin and not even a whisper of surprise, then turns her gaze to Barnes, arching an eyebrow that looks as naturally blonde as her hair (and it's definitely shaped differently to the last time Steve sketched her, too).

Barnes flicks his eyes towards the unpleasant man, and Natasha crosses to him, a polite but not remotely genuine smile on her face.

“Good afternoon,” she says, her voice showing no sign of the glee she didn't even try to conceal on the phone. “I’m Nell Rogers. I own and run the company. I understand you wanted to speak to me?”

The thing is, it took little more than a week after they defeated Loki’s army for Steve to learn how readily Natasha changes names, and not so much more than that for it to become clear that her name isn’t all that changes. Natasha's names come with a new hairstyle and different eye colour, a change in skin tone and distinguishing features (there’s a distinctive freckle under her left eye some days but not others, and to this day Steve hasn’t worked out whether she wears makeup to hide it or if the freckle itself is the makeup), a different walk and a different set to her shoulders and an entirely different personality associated with each name. Sometimes, Natasha undercover is entirely unrecognisable, and while that is not the case today (at least not for Steve, though he assumes both Barnes and the customer don’t know who she is), the fact that she’s using his name is every bit as disconcerting as the time he’d been ten minutes into a conversation with a Frau Rosenthal only to realise he already knew her.

Steve understands that Natasha finds security in having at least half a dozen well-established fake identities ready to adopt full time at any moment, but he does wish she’d at least _asked_ before using his name for one of them.

Right now, though, the unpleasant man looks at _Nell_ like he’s waiting for the punchline, or possibly for a camera crew to jump out and explain that she’s just joking and that this is merely an implausible story for entertainment purposes. He seems willing to accept any explanation, in fact, as long as it saves him from having to face the awful fact that sometimes the man in charge is actually a woman.

Perhaps, Steve concedes, it’s a good thing he didn’t forcibly remove the asshole from the building himself. Watching Natasha deal with him will be an awful lot more entertaining, and he has no doubt she’ll do a much better job of re-educating this idiot about what is and isn’t an appropriate way to treat people.

Despite the fact that Natasha exudes competence from her practical braid to the steel toe-capped boots, she manages to make look like the perfect accessory to her power suit, the unpleasant customer decides pretending to have misheard will get him a different response. “I’m sorry?”

“Are you?” Natasha answers, absolutely deadpan. “I’m glad to hear it.”

Steve grins, catching Natasha’s eye for a second, then follows her gaze to Barnes just in time to see him hide a grin every bit as amused as Steve’s behind his hand. He meets Steve’s gaze, raising his eyebrows and tilting his head a fraction in Nat’s direction; Steve interprets it as either _aren’t you glad she’s handling this?_ or _isn’t she amazing?_ but since his answer is yes either way all he does is smile brighter.

“What?” the asshole demands, drawing the attention of all three of them.

“I’m glad to hear it,” Natasha repeats. “Sometimes people say such horrible things to each other, and they rarely have the manners to realise they’ve done something wrong. It's refreshing to meet someone who does.”

She smiles so sweetly that even this dense idiot surely can't believe it's genuine, and allows him a moment to fully register the acid in her voice before continuing. “I believe you told my colleague you wished to speak to me.”

“I…” the man starts, his complete lack of comprehension very clear as he turns his gaze from Natasha to Steve; there's a slim possibility that he's looking to see who is witnessing his humiliation, but Steve suspects he's actually just hoping to get some support for his bigotry.

Boy, has he come to the wrong person.

Something in Steve's expression must make that very clear, because the asshole shifts his glare to Barnes, as though any of this is his fault.

Barnes just looks up at him, perfectly serene, and there's a moment of beautiful silence before the asshole turns on his heel and storms out without so much as a _thank you for your time_.

“Sorry, boss,” Barnes murmurs, sounding contrite.

“It happens,” Natasha answers philosophically, patting him on the shoulder as she heads back towards her office. “It's his loss, not ours. I trust you can handle this gentleman here, though, James.”

Barnes’ – James, apparently – gaze flicks in Steve’s direction, equal parts assessing and interested, but subtle enough that Steve (who has had more than enough time to get used to that kind of look since waking up in the future) wouldn’t have thought anything of it if he hadn’t followed it up with an almost silent, “Oh, I wish.”

One of the downsides of enhanced senses is that Steve often winds up hearing things he (and other people) really wishes he hadn’t, but it has at least allowed him to develop a reasonable poker face; he smiles blandly as James agrees and Natasha retreats back to her office.

“Sorry about that,” James says, as Steve removes his baseball cap and approaches his desk. “How can I- Shit. You’re-”

“Steve Rogers,” Steve interrupts firmly before James can finish the sentence; that’s all he is now, since they finished taking down Hydra for real and he handed the shield over to Sam.

For a moment, James just stares at him like he doesn’t quite believe what he’s seeing, and then he seems to gather his thoughts again. “Right,” he says slowly. “Sorry for that. What can I do for you, Steve Rogers?”

It’s Steve’s turn to hesitate, because witnessing the interaction between the unpleasant man and James and finding goddamn Natasha here has distracted him from his initial plan, but he’s made it this far and if there’s one thing Steve doesn’t do, it’s run away. “A friend told me you were looking for help here,” he says. “I was wondering if you were still hiring.”

Or, that’s what he means to say, anyway.

What actually comes out is, “Dinner?”

“What?” James asks, staring up at Steve, his expression only slightly more surprised than Steve feels.

“I was hoping to apply for the job, if you’ve not already found someone,” Steve says, only that, too, doesn’t come out as he expects it to.

“Can I buy you dinner?”

It’s not that Steve doesn’t want to ask that. James is handsome, and everything Steve’s seen in the last few minutes tells him exactly what kind of man James Barnes is (namely, the kind Steve would like to get to know better), but he really, honestly wasn’t planning on asking a complete stranger out today, or any day. It’s not what Steve does, never has been, and once Natasha hears about this Steve will never hear the end of it, whether James accepts or not.

“Just to clarify,” James says, “When you say dinner, you mean…?”

Well, since Nat is going to rag on him regardless, Steve might as well go all in. The worst thing that’ll happen is that James will say no, and Steve’s been rejected enough times in his lifetime that once more isn’t going to hurt.

Of course, he’s never before run the risk of landing on the front page of a tabloid when asking someone out, but possible negative headlines are rarely a reason not to do something.

“A date,” Steve says firmly, fully committing to the question he never meant to ask now that it’s out there. “With me, I mean. If you’re interested, that is. You can say no.”

“I know I can,” James answers, arching an eyebrow at him and wearing a smirk even Natasha would be envious of.

That’s okay, though. Steve can take rejection; heck, he finds it a lot easier to comprehend than the possibility of someone actually agreeing to go steady with him. And, though he can’t go on to ask for a job here, now that he’s made a fool of himself asking someone out without being sure they’re actually interested in men, the fact of the matter is, he would have to work for Natasha. Much as Steve loves her, he has no desire to be in her employ, no matter what guise she’s wearing at the time; all in all, it’s better that Steve asks out and is summarily rejected by James, so the whole thing can be over and done with and he can forget about it.

“Okay,” Steve says, since he’s an absolute expert on putting a brave face on things. “Sorry to have bothered you.”

He pauses a moment, then nods sharply, firmly repressing the urge to salute (God, it’s been years since he operated as part of a formal enough command structure that saluting was regularly required of him, but it’s still his fallback response when he’s feeling awkward), and takes a step back. “Thank you for your time,” he adds, which is even more uncomfortable than a salute would have been, and Steve really ought to get out of there.

He’s closer to the door than to the counter when James says, “Hey.”

Steve has been in fights where he’s reacted slower than he does at that, turning back to the desk fast enough that his spine cracks, because of course Steve just isn’t embarrassed enough yet.

“Yes?” he asks, not bothering to suppress the edge of hope in his voice.

James’ smirk has gone, though the smile he’s replaced it with is still more than a little cocky (but, it has to be said, an awful lot charming). “I said I know I _can_ say no,” he tells Steve, tilting his chair back almost far enough that he could rest his feet on the desk if he wanted to (impressive, given that it has wheels and he’s somehow not falling over). “I didn’t say I was stupid enough to actually do it.”

_Oh_ , Steve thinks, much less hopefully, because that’s the problem, isn’t it? It’s why he’s refused every time Natasha’s tried to get him to ask someone out, because even the ones who manage to see past the shield can’t see past the body the serum gave him.

Only Peggy has ever wanted him for himself, and she was one in a hell of a lot more than a million. There’s no point in holding out hope for another person like her, because the fact is there’s _no one_ like her.

But it’s too late for that now. He’s asked, James has sort of accepted (or at least suggested that he might be leaning in that direction), and Steve’s not going to take it back. For one thing, it’d be horribly rude, and, of far more significance to Steve’s thought processes, Nat’s reaction to that would be considerably worse than her reaction to him going to dinner with James would be.

He doesn’t say anything, largely because he doesn’t know what he can say without it sounding presumptuous, and a moment or two later James nods, crashing his chair back down to the ground and standing up.

“Yeah,” he says, grinning across the desk between them and, okay, maybe it was James’ attitude to the asshole customer that drew Steve to him, but it’s not like his looks aren’t a factor too. He’s handsome, charming, and he clearly has an appropriate level of respect for Natasha and her ability to handle assholes, so Steve is going to put a brave face on it and act like James liking his appearance is a positive rather than a negative. “I’d love to have dinner with you, Steve Rogers,” James continues. “Meet you outside Stark’s ugly ass building at seven?”

Steve grins back at him, unreasonably pleased by this; if all else fails they’ve at least got that in common, and criticising Tony’s taste in architecture should at least get them through to their food arriving.

“Sounds good,” he says. “See you then, James Barnes.” 

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked this idea but thought _hey, if I was writing this, I would have done…_ you are in luck! I’ll be participating in the Stucky remix fest, so you may well have a chance to tell this story your way. Sign ups open on 10th January, and all other info can be found [here on tumblr](https://stuckyremix.tumblr.com/).


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